Under Control
by Caught In A Simple Game
Summary: She showed up at his door unexpectedly, and it immediately changed life for both of them. Two educated, controlled people find something in life they can't find a solution to in a text book of facts and statistics. Reid/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Finally, it was over.

The man picked up a towel from nearby and wiped the blood from his hands. She whimpered, and the sound took up the last of the energy she had in her. Even when he gave her the harsh orders to put her clothes back on, she couldn't make herself move.

"Fine. Lay there naked, just like the whore you are," her captor sneered. He spat on her limp form before leaving the room; it must have been night because the rare ray of sunshine she could sometimes see didn't peek in when he opened the door.

Isabeau tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. When was the last time he had given her a drink of water? She couldn't even remember. After she heard the front door of the apartment shut, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She forced her muscles to find another bit of energy – anything they could muster – and pushed herself up on her hands and knees. She crawled over to where her clothes were laying and, slowly but surely, dressed herself.

She reached her arm across her mouth, feeling the blood smear as she pulled the limb over her face. The liquid had to be running from several different locations; the man had beat her nearly unconscious before starting this most recent attack. Her ears rang out from the several blows to her head, but Isabeau made herself focus. She hadn't ever had much determination for anything in her life, but her determination to stay alive was contradicting her reaction to every other opportunity she'd ever let pass her by.

Pain shot through every nerve she had as she once again moved to her hands and knees. Wincing against the protesting of her bones and muscles, she started crawling to the bedroom door. Usually her captor figured her too incoherent too escape, but she had built up an endurance to his attacks. She forced herself to remain aware as she reached for the doorknob; it turned and gave. She was making progress.

Her destination wasn't that far away. It was by the grace of God – and she swore she'd go back to church just as soon as she made it out alive – that they had run into that man as the monster who had hid her away over the last few weeks dragged her into the apartment building. _That fucking Fed_, he had muttered under his breath before ordering her to act normal if she wanted to live. With a gun at her spine, she made the difficult choice not to cry out for help.

If there was anything she had made herself concentrate on over the weeks she had been raped and beaten, it was that apartment number. _2C_. Maybe she didn't remember what day it was or exactly how long she had been here, but she remembered that apartment number. Maybe it was just a door to anyone, but to Isabeau, it was the door to her savior – even if he had yet to know he was savior to anyone.

.&.

Spencer Reid had just come off the plane back to Quantico, and despite the restless sleep he'd managed on the flight, he was ready to fall into his own bed and sleep for at least a few hours before he had to be back in the office.

He started the shower, hoping the warm water would help relax his muscles from the uncomfortable position he had slept in on the airplane. He went in search of a clean towel – laundry needed to be moved to the top of his to-do list – but before he could find one, a sound in the hallway caught his attention. He waited a few seconds, but it still sounded too faint.

Frowning, Spencer turned off the water so he could hear better. Sure enough, there was the sound again. A thud against his door. Not a knock hand or a pounding fist; certainly no noe had ever announced their presence at his door this way.

Walking slowly and with a phone in hand, just in case, he looked out the peephole but saw nothing. Just as he backed away from the door, another thud rang through the door.

"Please," a weak voice pleaded. "Please be home. He's going to kill me."

Spencer's eyes grew and as quickly as possible, he unlocked the door. When he opened it, a young woman fell backwards onto the floor; he figured she had been hitting her head against the door to get his attention. After overcoming a moment of shock, he kneeled down next to her and dialed the emergency line.

"I don't know her name or what happened," Spencer told the dispatcher in a more than frustrated tone when asked for a second time the woman's information. "Just send an ambulance, immediately."

He set the phone down on the floor. Holding her face in his hands, he turned her eyes to his. All he could think to do was to keep her talking.

"Can you tell me your name?"

She swallowed hard. "Isabeau … Marcure."

"All right, Isabeau. You're going to be just fine, help is one the way."

"He raped me," she blurted out. It was suddenly difficult to breathe and if she was going to die, somebody had to know what had happened. "And he beat me. I've been in his apartment for at least three weeks."

"You really should try not to talk so much," he cautioned her. "The police will ask you all of this."

She gasped for breath. "I can't … my chest is …"

The realization hit him like a Mack truck. If she had been beaten, Isabeau more than likely had broken ribs, and broken ribs could result in a collapsed lunch. He could hear the sirens coming; they would be there any minute. He just had to keep her breathing until they arrived.

"Okay, look at me. I know it's hard to breathe – your lung is probably collapsed. I can hear the sirens and they're going to be here any time and they'll fix that for you. Just please, stay with me until then."

Isabeau nodded, keeping her eyes locked on his. When it became harder for her to breathe, she reached up and grabbed his hand. Spencer saw the fear in her eyes and did the best he could to give her some semblance of reassurance.

Squeezing her hand, he promised she was going to be fine. "You just have to stay with me. They're going to be here – I can hear them coming up the stairs."

Couldn't they run up those stairs a little faster? This woman was dying right in front of him, and for once, Spencer Reid had no idea what to do.

.&.

She had never welcomed pain so readily. The smell of antiseptic stung her nose and every nerve in her body fired off with agonizing sensations, but Isabeau didn't care. If she could feel the pain, it meant she was alive. She hadn't died there in that apartment after all.

No, because she had made it out of that apartment. She had made it to the federal agent's apartment. As her eyes fluttered open, she vaguely remembered trying to tell him who she was and what had happened to her before her chest tightened and the whole world faded to black.

"Miss Marcure?"

Isabeau looked over to see a nurse looking down at her with kind eyes. "I'm alive."

The nurse gave her a comforting smile. "You are, indeed. How do you feel?"

Her throat was dry and her voice came out scratchy, but Isabeau was thankful enough that she could even speak. "I hurt. All over."

"That's to be expected for the injuries you sustained," the nurse told her. "Several bones in your left arm and hand were shattered. Your right tibia was also fractured – both of those limbs are in casts, so they're going to feel heavy. Your ribs are fractured and they're going to be sore for a while. We had to put in a chest tube in order to allow the air in your chest to escape. You fought the staff a lot on that, so you've been in a medically induced coma the last couple of days. Your lung is already healing though, and you seem to be breathing all right on your own."

Her eyes full opened now, Isabeau glanced down; sure enough, plaster encased her left arm and right leg. That wasn't going to be so fun getting around. She didn't even try to move around, just knowing the pain that follow.

The nurse lowered her voice. "We also performed a rape kit while you were in the coma. I apologize, but it was necessary in order to get the agents the information they needed."

"Agents?" Isabeau asked with a frown.

"Apparently you aren't the first girl who has been kidnapped in this same fashion, but you're the first to make it out alive. If you're feeling up to it, there's an agent here who would like to talk to you about what happened."

Isabeau took as deep of a breath as her sore body would allow and nodded. "I suppose that would be all right."

The nurse jotted down some of Isabeau's vitals and promised to be back in with some pain medication for the IV and the federal agent for Isabeau to speak with. It was only a couple of minutes before the nurse returned. Isabeau expected the morphine; she didn't expect the agent to have a familiar face.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid," he greeted her. "How are you feeling?"

"All right, I guess," she answered quietly. "You're the guy …"

Spencer nodded, cutting her off. "That was me."

"You saved my life," Isabeau told him, looking down to her uninjured hand in her lap. Somehow, she felt embarrassed saying that. Although, she had to admit, she felt a little less tense once this Dr. Reid had stepped in the room.

He gave her a small smile. "You saved your own life, Miss Marcure. You just happened to knock on the door of a responsible citizen."

"First of all, call me Isabeau," she requested. "Second of all, that wasn't coincidence. When he dragged me into that apartment building, you were in the hallway. He cursed and told me you were with the FBI and to keep my mouth shut. He had a gun at my spine; I had to make a choice."

"No one can fault you for that," Spencer told her. "Whatever brought you to my door, I'm just glad I could help."

He couldn't tell her about how panicked he had been, thinking she would die right there on his apartment floor. Then, when the team took on the case of the girls before her who hadn't lived through their ordeals, Spencer had quickly volunteered to be the one to question her when she woke up.

"The nurse said you had some questions for me?" Isabeau prompted.

"Right," Spencer nodded. "You said you were abducted about three weeks ago. Do you remember the date when he picked you up?"

Isabeau frowned. "Around the thirteenth of June, I think? I don't even know what date it is now."

"July twelfth," Spencer supplied. "So it was closer to four weeks ago."

"Must have lost a week in there," she mumbled. More and more she was feeling the defeat of this thing.

"Tell me about when he abducted you."

She sighed. "I never thought it would be me. I was the type who never had much self-motivation – I let other people motivate me. My parents are really conservative, and we're Catholic, so they always had me in private schools, and I even started at a private Catholic college. I did everything I was supposed to, until I didn't." Another deep, painful breath. "I met a Marine when he was visiting friends in my hometown. My parents flipped shit, and in that instant, I rebelled. I left with him and came here to Quantico."

Spencer hadn't asked for her life story, but any little bit could give them clues to solving this thing. So, he just listened to whatever she had to say.

"That lasted for all of about four months. I couldn't go back home – my parents had basically disowned me. So, I tried to get back on track. I moved to Fairfax, started at a college there. I got my accelerated master's in psychology and I've just been working with the school system since then."

"Do you ever come back to the area?"

Isabeau nodded. "Every few weekends I'll try to come down and visit with friends I made while I was here. More during the summer since I'm not working. There was this going away thing for one of the guys – he's deploying soon – so we went out to this bar. I got a hotel room this weekend because the friends I normally stay with already had some other people in town. I hailed a cab in front of the bar, and when I got in, this guy was already in there."

Spencer nodded, and pointed to the chair next to her bed. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead," Isabeau shrugged.

He sat and ran through all the details she had given him so far. "Did you recognize him?"

Isabeau shook her head. "No. And he didn't look military – shaggy hair, scruffy face."

"Could you recognize him if you saw him again?"

She closed her eyes and tried to picture her captor. It was fuzzy, but it was enough for her to know she would know him again if she saw him. "Yes. I think I would."

"All right. Here's the deal. We haven't released to anyone that you've been found. For all this guy knows, you're lying dead somewhere."

Isabeau scoffed. She could be lying dead, if she hadn't made it to Spencer's apartment, or if this guy had found her before she made it there. What if he hadn't been home? She just couldn't believe that everything had worked out in her favor.

"So what now?" she asked.

"We're going to move you to a safe house, here in the area. I'll take you to get some clothes and things, and then we'll put you into hiding until we can find this guy."

Isabeau nodded. "All right. Thanks."

Spencer stood and looked down at her with a reassuring smile that reached into his eyes. "You're going to be just fine. We'll get you through this, I promise."

The morphine was kicking in, making her drowsy. Spencer told her he needed to check back in with his team, but he would find out when she was being dismissed and come back for her then. Isabeau wanted to thank him again, but didn't want to keep pelting him with words of gratitude. As a psychology major, she knew all about PTSD and transference and all of the chemicals in her brain that were growing her attachment to Dr. Spencer Reid. She knew everything she needed to do to focus on her recovery and get on with life on her own, but it was as if everything else in her body was fighting all these things that her mind knew.

A/N: Just a pre-warning, this story is probably going to be pretty cliché and maybe a little OOC for Reid. Criminal Minds is one of my new favorite shows and I just needed a little Reid-romance … so I'm writing it.

For anyone reading Saving Grace, I do plan on finishing it and moving on to Austin and Jax's next story, I'm just a little stuck on developing Saving Grace right now.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

"These three women have been found dead in the last two months. Shanne Richter was found in an apartment building dumpster; Lisa Vincent was found in a hotel room; Taryn Lowry was in an abandoned warehouse," JJ explained, going through the pages in the file she held in her hands. "All of them were last seen at that same bar, waiting on the sidewalk for a cab. Friends of Shanna and Taaryn saw them get in the cab, but Lisa was at the club alone. All of the bodies showed evidence of severe beatings and sexual assault, and they all died as a result of strangulation."

"What connections do we have on them?" Derek inquired.

"DNA collected from the bodies matches but we haven't been able to find a match in the system. The DNA taken from Isabeau Marcure's rape kit also matched the samples taken from the other girls."

Hotch took a deep breath. "Something about the girls at that bar is triggering this guy. I need background checks on all of them and I want to know everything. Who they hung out with, where they worked, anyone they might know who could and would do this."

"Garcia's working on backgrounds and common denominators for all the victims and trying to locate possible past victims that will help us connect the dots," Emily offered. She glanced at Reid. "It would be easier if we had more information from Isabeau."

Reid raised his brow. "Why are you looking at me?"

"You've been at the hospital every day since she woke up," JJ started. "You must have some sort of connection with her by now. There's got to be more than what she's telling you. Probabilities lie in the fact that she's going to tell you before she tells any of us."

Spencer knew all of this; he just didn't want to admit to it. Isabeau had woken up four days ago, and he had checked in with her each day – twice the day before. He was worried about her well-being; perhaps because he had come to him when she escaped her captor, he felt somewhat responsible for her.

"Reid?" Hotch prompted.

"Right," Spencer replied, snapping to attention. "She's getting out of the hospital this evening, and I'm taking her to Fairfax to get some things together before taking her to the safe house."

"We'll have a police watch out front. Might as well pack a bag, Reid. If she trusts you, you're going to watch her," Rossi assigned.

Reid agreed, but inside he was panicking. He wasn't an entirely unemotional being, although finding himself so attached to a stranger – a woman, at that – was not something he was familiar with experiencing.

"Hey, you all right?" Derek asked, playfully punching him in the shoulder. "You going to be able to handle this?"

"Yeah, sure," Spencer answered. "Guess I better check in with Garcia. Maybe she can give me something to go off of when I talk to the girl later."

Derek just nodded, smirking as he walked away. He could see the worry all over Reid's face; it was similar to the look Reid had when he dealt with Lila, a pretty actress in Los Angeles who had come on strong to Reid. Whatever had caught Reid's eyes about this girl, that thing had latched on with an unforgiving grip.

.&.

Spencer had spent most of the day trying to get a hold of Isabeau's parents, but that was proving difficult to do. Garcia was swamped trying to get the backgrounds on the dead girls and had yet to visit Isabeau's file just yet. He was doing the best he could with the information he had, but it just wasn't going to work.

Glancing at the clock, Spencer realized more hours had passed than he thought. Isabeau was being released from the hospital soon, and he needed to get over there. The staff had warned that she would be in a wheelchair since crutches would be nearly impossible with the broken hand. Expecting to be more of a babysitter than anything, he dropped his messenger bag over his shoulder and let Hotch know he was heading out. Just as he was getting into his car, his phone rang.

"Reid here," he answered.

"Going to get your girl?" Garcia responded.

Spencer frowned. "My girl?"

"Relax, just an expression," Garcia chuckled. "I have a few things for you. First of all, everything she told you checks out. No word on her parents yet, no family in this area."

"That all sounds pretty mundane."

"I saved the best for last, Genius Boy," Garcia assured him. He heard keys clicking in the background and then she came back to him. "Isabeau filed a restraining order on a Ronnie Griffith five months after she came to Virginia. That was almost eight years ago, but it looks like it's been renewed every year."

"After eight years, she's still got enough evidence to continue the restraining order? Don't see that very often."

"That's the best I've got for you right now, but I'm still digging. I'll run a check on Griffith and get back to you."

"Great, thanks."

Spencer disconnected the call and started the ignition in his car. It puzzled him, what could possibly scare Isabeau so much after eight years that she kept up a restraining order. Well, he would just have to ask her.

.&.

Isabeau was waiting in a wheelchair in the hospital's lobby when Spencer arrived. She found it slightly adorable when he fell over himself apologizing, and did her best to assure him it wasn't a problem.

"They let me go an hour earlier than they had thought they would," Isabeau explained. "The nurse gave me these papers and said to give them to you when you got here."

He took the papers that gave instructions on her pain medication and follow-up doctor's appointments and gave them a good look-over. Stuffing them in his messenger bag, Spencer stepped around to the back of her wheelchair and pointed them in the direction of the parking lot.

"I can take those papers if you want. I just assumed from what you'd said before that you'd be staying with me, so I told the nurse –"

"Don't even worry about it," Spencer interrupted. "We'll go to Fairfax first and you can get some things, then we'll come back here to the safe house."

It was difficult, trying to get her into the car. It was still painful for her to have her leg down instead of elevated, but there wasn't much room to stretch out. Spencer moved the seat all the way back for her and leaned it back just a little more so that she would have the room to elevate her foot with the pillows the hospital had sent with her.

"Thank you," Isabeau said just before he shut her door. He got in the driver's seat, told her it wasn't a problem, and pulled out to the road. "Need directions?"

"Probably," Spencer told her. "We had your address, but I'm guessing you know the fastest way there."

She told him where to go, then tried to settle back. After a few minutes, the silence was getting uncomfortable. She thought of a million different things she would say to any other guy she was interested in, but this was different. She didn't want to pursue Spencer; not when everything about her attraction to him screamed chemical reaction.

"So we've been doing background checks on everyone," Spencer spoke before she could settle on a subject. "She found a restraining order in your file. You didn't tell us about that."

"Was I supposed to?" Isabeau asked, slightly irked. She knew that they needed to know as much as possible, but they could just ask her these questions. They didn't need to go digging through her past.

"It just helps us. Maybe this person is the one who kidnapped you, or had something to do with it?"

Isabeau shook her head. "No. Ronnie Griffith has been deployed for the last three months."

"He could still have something to do with it. Why the restraining order? It's unusual that we see one go on for so long."

"After I broke up with Ben – the guy I moved here for – I stayed around here for another couple of months. We had a lease on an apartment, and since it was a mutual, amicable break-up, I stayed. Griffith was one of Ben's friends – well, used to be. He started calling me as soon as he found out Ben and I had ended things, and he wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't want to stay in the area and I didn't want any attachments here. He started showing up at my job and refused to leave when I asked him. That stopped for about a week after the first police call I made, but then he followed me into the apartment one night when I came home from work. Ben was on an overnight duty shift. Griffith told me he was going to kill me – if he couldn't have me, no one would – but the neighbors called the complex security when they heard me screaming and he didn't get to go through with it. He got some assault and battery charges. The Corps demoted him and he got in some trouble there, but they didn't discharge him."

"Is Ben still friends with him?"

"Not as far as I know. Ben and I are still friends – like I said, it was a mutual decision to end the relationship. They're not even in the same unit anymore."

Spencer thought on that for a few moments. It was difficult, he knew, for deployed servicemembers to be in constant touch with anyone back in the States but not entirely impossible. "Why is it that you continued the restraining order?"

"For the first three years I had it, he would wait until literally one minute into the day after the previous one expired, and he would knock on my door and create a scene. I don't know how he found me in Fairfax, but when I brought that to the courts, they allowed me to automatically renew it every year."

That made more sense. In his mind, this Ronnie Griffith may not have been a direct suspect, but he was certainly a possible solicitor. He took out his phone and called Penelope.

"Do me a favor; see if Ronnie Griffith is connected to the other girls as well."

Isabeau listened while he finished his conversation. His voice made her heart beat a little faster, but withdrew the tension from her muscles at the same time. She closed her eyes and told herself to stop thinking about it. Once all of this was resolved and she regained her sense of safety, it wouldn't be the same. These weren't really feelings; this was transference.

"Are you feeling all right?" Spencer asked, concern etched into his features and tone.

Isabeau nodded. "Yes, sorry. Just letting my mind wander, I suppose."

Spencer seemed a little nervous, but quickly recovered. "What part of psychology are you in?"

"Working with the school system, I'm really more of a traveling guidance counselor. I travel through all of the schools from elementary to high school and work with kids who have rough home lives or who have had bad things happen to them before."

"Did you always want to do that?"

"Actually, when I first went into psychology, I wanted to work with PTSD patients. Being around Ben and some of my other friends in Quantico, it hits home. I did my internship with a PTSD support group on base." She paused. "What about you? I mean, no offense, but you don't seem old enough to know everything you know."

Spencer smirked. "It sounds conceited, but I'm a genius. Graduated high school at twelve, and now I've got three Ph.D.'s."

"Photographic memory?"

"How'd you know?"

Isabeau smiled; the first smile he had seen from her since he appeared in her life a few nights ago. "When you walk into a room, the first thing you do is look around – it's like you're observing every little detail. A girl in one of my study groups in high school did the same thing."

"Sounds like I'm not the only observant one," Spencer commented. He looked over at her and smiled. It was strange; he was nervous around her but not uncomfortable. That was new for him.

"I like to be aware of my surroundings. Which, I guess, is another reason why this all caught me even more off guard."

They continued to talk all the way to her place in Fairfax. When they arrived, Spencer parked as close to the door as possible. He had her wait in the car while he let the man in the office know they needed into the apartment, then came around and opened the door for her, and Isabeau let out a deep sigh.

"I should have taken crutches, just in case," she breathed.

Spencer looked behind him at the apartment. A four-floor building stood in front of them. He thought at first that the wheelchair was just going to get frustrating for her, then he realized why she was really upset.

"You're on the fourth floor, aren't you?"

Isabeau answered with a defeated nod. "I like the exercise the stairs give me, and there's a pretty view when the sun rises."

She was trying to scoot herself forward on the seat so she could then scoot over into the wheelchair when she felt strong, unexpected arms lift her from the seat.

"You don't have to do this," she assured Spencer as he approached the first flight of steps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm stronger than I look, and you're light as a feather, anyway."

She put her arms around his neck to hold on and tried to hide her smile. He smelled absolutely enticing, and being so close to his face was making it difficult for her not to think about kissing him. The office manager let them into the apartment; Spencer carried her in, careful to shut the door behind them before carrying her into her bedroom and setting her on the bed.

"Thanks," Isabeau smiled shyly at him. "Um, there's a bag on the top shelf of my closet. If you can get that for me, I should be able to scoot around enough to get everything together."

He retrieved the bag for her and then told her to yell if she needed help. He figured there were some private things she needed to gather and it would be better if he wasn't in the room. Wandering out to the living room, Spencer did exactly what she had observed him doing – took in every detail of the apartment.

There were many pictures of her with friends and family. It was clear that despite the distance and the years, she was still close with her family. He wondered if maybe this would be enough to send her back to her hometown and stamped down his disappointment at the thought. One particular picture of a younger, smaller Isabeau proudly holding a teddy bear and sitting in a man's lap caught his attention, and he smiled. When Isabeau yelled for him, he brought the picture with him.

"How old are you in this picture?"

Isabeau took the picture from his hand and smiled. "That's me and my dad on my eighth birthday. Every year for as long as I can remember, he got me a new teddy bear. They're all back at home; haven't gotten one since my eighteenth birthday. I miss it, sort of."

"Do you talk to them very often?"

"Yeah. We reconciled shortly after I moved out to Fairfax, and I've been home a few times. They even came out here once."

"Would you go back then?"

She shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it. I guess once they know what happened, they'll want me to come back. I'm myself out here though, you know? Back there, I was whoever they wanted me to be. I think that's why I stayed, even after I made up with them."

"Makes sense."

Isabeau asked him to help her to the bathroom so she could gather some toiletries, threw those into her bag, and then announced that she was ready.

"Sure you want to carry me back down? I might be able to just scoot down on my butt."

Spencer shook his head. "It's fine, really."

He helped her hobble over to the door where they made sure the lights were off and let the office manager lock the door again before Spencer lifted her off the ground and carried her back down to the car.

"I might fall back asleep," she warned him.

"That's all right, you should rest while you can."

Whether it was the smooth ride of the car or the sense of safety being in Spencer's presence gave her – or perhaps both with a little bit of influence from her pain medication – Isabeau was soon lulled into a peaceful sleep.

**A/N: Still a slow start, but things will pick up, of course. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Isabeau slept restlessly. It wasn't like in the hospital where the morphine was abundant and put her to sleep like the comfort of falling asleep in a lover's arms. The pain killers helped with the pain but didn't silence or blind her mind enough to stop the nightmares. She wouldn't have felt so bad if she hadn't woken up screaming multiple times throughout the evening – also waking Spencer every time she did.

When she woke around four-thirty the following morning, he was already awake and sitting at the kitchen table. Isabeau had been able to pull herself from this nightmare before the screaming began; she called for Spencer from the bedroom.

"Are you all right? Another nightmare?"

Isabeau nodded. "Didn't get too far this time, though. I managed to wake myself up before screaming bloody murder this time. Sorry about all of that, by the way."

"It's all right," he assured her. "I never sleep much anyway."

She sat up, and he helped her into the wheelchair. She wheeled herself to the kitchen table while he prepared a cup of coffee for her. Files and papers were spread over the whole table; Isabeau swallowed hard.

"Are these the other girls?" she inquired.

Spencer turned from the cup of coffee. "Oh, yes, they are. You probably shouldn't look at those." He quickly gathered everything up and put the files in a stack across the table from her.

"Dr. Reid –"

"Spencer," he corrected.

"Spencer," Isabeau repeated. "There's no more damage those pictures can do than what I already lived. I was a step away from the fate those girls met. Besides, with my psychology background, maybe there's something I could do to help. It could be, you know, therapeutic for me."

"First of all, you were more than a step away from their fate. You don't need to see what you missed out on. As for the psychological viewpoint, I'd welcome it. You do have a firsthand experience with this UnSub."

"So what do you know so far?"

Spencer set the cup of coffee in front of her, then got to work on fixing himself a second cup. "He picked up all of the girls outside of that bar. Two of them were seen by friends getting into the cab, one was by herself completely."

"Two," Isabeau spoke up. "I was by myself. My friends wanted to stay later but I left early."

Perhaps it was something about her tone. "What made you decide to leave early?"

"How possible is it that my reason for leaving early is irrelevant?"

Spencer pursed his lips and sat down with his coffee, taking a small sip. He studied her face carefully, not missing any details. The pink of the blush that tinged her cheeks opened her up to a vulnerability that he found charming, in a subtle sort of way. The way her eyes refused to meet his made him curious in a way that exceeded any professional curiosity. And, perhaps his favorite detail of the moment, the way Isabeau nibbled at her bottom lip made him realize just how kissable those lips actually were. Normally under control of any emotions of this sort, Spencer had to wonder where these thoughts came from – well, half of him wondered. The other half was rejoicing for his photographic memory.

"Any detail, no matter how irrelevant it may seem, could be helpful," Spencer answered her. "You may not think it matters but it could be the one thing that triggers this guy to do the things he does."

Isabeau took a deep breath. "Look, don't judge me, all right? Ben and I broke up after I moved out here, but we knew we had just moved things too fast. We were both young … anyway, we stayed friends and we stayed close. Every now and then we see each other – privately."

She looked anywhere but at him. Isabeau didn't want to know what Spencer thought of her sleeping with a man with whom she didn't have anything more than a platonic relationship. Ben had always been her security – well, until she'd been kidnapped. Then that had changed to the man sitting with her at that table. Just another sign that what she felt was nothing more than a neural reaction to what she had experienced and who had been there when she escaped.

"He was safe," Spencer finally said after a short period of silence. "That's why you kept going back to him. You were young when you met him, and that initial strong feeling was probably more of a physical attraction than actual heartfelt emotion. Even though you broke up, your relationship stayed platonic and amicable, and that physical attraction was still there. You're out here where you don't have much family beyond your friends, so you still register Ben the same as when you first met him, even if it is at a less intense level."

Her mouth hung slightly agape. "You're really not judging me, are you?"

"There's nothing to judge, Isabeau," Spencer assured her with a slight smile. "And it does help. If these other girls were also connecting with old boyfriends or, honestly, just sleeping around, it could have been a trigger for the UnSub."

"He looked to be around our age, and in this area he may have a military background, even if he doesn't look like it anymore. Probably been unstable all his life, but either hid it well or just lived a life that was conducive to reining in any manic tendencies. Something happened that broke that barrier – and there must be a girl involved, somehow."

"That's not bad," Spencer nodded, making a few notes.

Isabeau shrugged. "It just makes sense, really. The beating and the raping – he's got an affinity for domination. I love the Marine Corps, don't get me wrong, but they do produce some very dominant males. Just goes right along with the military history detail."

"Very possible." Spencer took a deep breath. "I know it isn't going to be easy, Isabeau, but do you think you could go over some details of your attacks with me? If you're not comfortable, it's fine, but –"

"Any detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem, could be helpful," she finished, paraphrasing his words from earlier. "I'll try but I can't promise anything, Spencer. I've never gone through anything like this in my life."

"I know you haven't. I promise you, though, whenever you want to stop, no matter how short or long the conversation, it'll be done, until you're ready to talk about it again."

"Even if that's never?"

"Even if that's never," he promised. "Ready?"

Isabeau closed her eyes and took a deep breath. All it took was for her eyes to close long enough to blink to bring back the horrid images of that bastard on top of her or looking down at her beaten frame on the floor. She was never going to be able to do this from her own point of view.

"This is going to seem crazy, but if I tell this in first person, I'll never be able to do it. Recounting all of it happening to me is too much. If I tell you like it was happening to someone else –"

"You'll get through it easier," Spencer finished. "I understand. Whatever it takes."

Another deep breath, and she began. "Ben called her just after midnight. She didn't want her friends to know what was going on, so she made excuses about a headache and went outside to wait for a cab …"

.&.

The sun was up by the time she was finished. Between the details that poured out of her like lava from a volcano and the questions Reid had for her as she told the story, a couple of hours passed before they got to the end. Nearly four weeks left them with a lot of information to cover.

"I need to get all of this information to the BAU," Spencer told her, gathering his notes. "My laptop is in the other room. I'll email a report over to them and have them call me when they go over it."

Isabeau nodded and took a sip of cold coffee. Sighing, she rolled the chair into the small living room where Spencer now sat on the same couch he'd slept on, laptop perched on his knees and fingers frantically typing as he read through his notes.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Spencer didn't even look up from what he was doing. "Sure."

"Was there a missing person report for me?"

His typing slowed and then stopped. He had hoped that she wouldn't ask that but should have known she would eventually wonder. He didn't have to be on expert on the fairer sex to know that most women wanted mostly just to be cared for.

"It's just that," she continued, "I was gone for almost a month. I don't expect my parents to say anything. They live halfway across the country and it isn't entirely unusual for us to go a few weeks without talking. But my friends here, they should have known I was missing. I never showed up at Ben's – _he _should have _known_ I was missing."

Spencer put the laptop on the coffee table and set aside his notes. "Besides your few speeding tickets over the years, no one in law enforcement had heard of you until you showed up at my door."

Her eyes closed slowly and her breathing was measured. All the years she had lived in the Quantico area … all the friends she thought she had kept over the years … even Ben was a fake. None of them cared about her. She suddenly felt like that girl who doesn't belong but can't catch a hint.

"Isabeau …"

"It's all right, Spencer. I should have known better than to ask something like that. And I probably should have seen through all those people a long time ago. Especially Ben. I mean, I can help profile a guy who kidnapped me who I barely know but people I've known for years – I completely missed what I really meant to them. I should have known better than to think they cared enough to report if I didn't show up for a few weeks."

She wheeled herself to the bedroom and shut the door behind her. It wasn't graceful, but she managed to get from the wheelchair back into the bed. She hugged the extra pillow on the bed and pulled the covers over her head.

"I care about what happens to you."

Wiping her tears – tears that thoroughly embarrassed her – she came out from under the blanket and rolled to her other side so she was facing the door – and the handsome genius standing just inside the room.

"I mean, I know I'm not family or friends. I know I've only known you for a few days, but I care about what happens to you. I want to make sure we catch this guy so that he can't do this to another girl, and you're my motivation for that. I didn't know you before any of this, but if you went missing for even a few hours, I'd report it and I'd come looking for you."

"You would?" Isabeau sniffled.

Spencer nodded. "Yeah, I would. I mean, right now this is about the case, but I don't see why couldn't continue a professional relationship in the future. We can always use an extra expert on cases – especially with your PTSD expertise."

Isabeau closed her eyes. She was disappointed that he had started off with such a wonderfully charming speech, but she had read far more into it than what was necessary. Of course he only meant it to comfort her; he wasn't a victim developing an irrational attachment to a rescuer.

"Thanks, Spencer. I'm just going to try and get some rest."

"Let me know if you need anything."

She gave him as much of a smile as she could manage and rolled to her other side. It was comforting to know he was there, even if their thoughts weren't exactly on the same wavelength.

.&.

Derek Morgan finished reading the email from Spencer; more than just a few things had jumped out at him. He picked up his desk phone and dialed Penelope Garcia.

"You've reached the desk of the omniscient goddess, Penelope Garcia. What does your heart desire?" she greeted in a sultry tone.

He smiled. "Only you, baby girl."

"Oh, if only," Garcia replied, her tone going from sultry to teasing. "I'm guessing you're calling about Reid's email."

"You guessed right," Derek confirmed. "See if you can get me a list of males recently discharged from military in the Quantico area. If you can mark the ones who are divorced or separated, I'd be eternally grateful."

"If I can? Honey, lose your doubts. It's just going to take a little bit, but I'll send the list over to you ASAP."

"Thanks, beautiful." Derek hung up the phone and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

"Doing all right?" Emily asked. "You look stressed."

"Just want to catch this guy before he gets someone else."

"It may be too late for that," Hotch announced, dropping a file on the desk. "Local police found the body of another girl around the same age in an alleyway. ME says she was beaten and sexually assaulted. Cause of death was strangulation. Last place she was seen was picking up a cab outside that same bar."

"So it's our guy," Emily sighed. "I'll let Garcia know; she can try and connect this girl to the others."

"Also, have her find out if the other girls were dating anyone or seeing them on the side. Reid thinks there may be a trigger in that," Hotch added.

.&.

Reid got off the phone and sighed. Another girl. This guy had gotten another girl before they found him. The only clues they had were still the DNA and the MO. Keeping Isabeau's disappearance and eventual escape from the media wasn't helping at all. Reid couldn't figure out why; it didn't seem fitting that a dominant, unstable male would let a victim go without a fight.

How was he going to tell Isabeau that another girl had been found? She was heartbroken when she found out that no one had reported her, and Spencer couldn't blame her. It wasn't fair at all. The way she talked about her parents – although she had excused them – and her friends and even Ben – they should have been calling the police department without stopping until she was found. He knew Isabeau would have done the same for any of them.

Maybe he had gone too far though, letting her know how worried he would be if she ever came up missing. It was the truth. More and more her well-being was growing important to him but he didn't want Isabeau to think he was being inappropriate or coming on to her. He had crossed a line with Lila Archer and he couldn't let that happen again.

He did find it ironic though that instead of the pretty actress in Los Angeles, it was a beautiful psychologist just a room away breaking down his resistance to emotion.


	4. Chapter 4

Penelope was connecting the dots. Maybe it wasn't as quickly as she would have liked, but she was getting there. Well, on most of the dots anyway. How Isabeau Marcure was connected to the other girls, she still wasn't sure. Just the same, she called Derek with the information she had found, and he relayed it to the rest of the team.

"Garcia thinks she may have found an UnSub," he began. "Cooper Hoffman was dishonorably discharged from the Marine Corps eighteen months ago for beating a female Marine so bad that he nearly killed her. Just weeks before that, his wife left him for another man – one she had met while he was deployed overseas."

"Mental history?" Emily asked.

"Was treated for anger management and bipolar issues up until the age of seventeen when he joined the Delayed Enlistment Program."

"Trigger and history," Hotch nodded. "Where is he at now?"

"Penelope is sending over his work and home addresses."

"Great. Get suited up, everyone. We're headed in that direction," Hotch announced.

"You're hesitating," Rossi commented, stopping everyone in their tracks.

Derek nodded, already understanding where Hotch's head was. "All of the dead girls had husbands stationed on Quantico and cheated on them while they were deployed. Isabeau dated a guy stationed here but they broke up before he ever deployed. We can't find any connection between Isabeau Marcure and Cooper Hoffman."

"Not even Ronnie Griffith?" Hotch frowned.

"There's no evidence of communication between the two of them."

"Someone else kidnapped her," Emily surmised. "And he's still out there."

"We need to go after this Cooper Hoffman," Derek said. "It's a very strong chance that he killed those other girls. It just means we have no leads on Isabeau's case."

"We'll take care of that when we get back," Hotch decided out loud. "Let's go."

.&.

Cooper Hoffman's cell phone allowed the team to track him to an abandoned apartment where he was holding another girl hostage. She hadn't even been reported missing yet.

He gave up without much of a fuss; the best the team could figure, he was spiraling out of control and just wanted someone to stop him. The girl's injuries were minimal since she was so early in her capture. They sent her off with an ambulance and warned her they would be around for questioning later.

Back in a dim interrogation room, Derek was getting as much information as he could from Cooper Hoffman. He gave up everything he knew about Shanna, Lisa, Taryn, and Janice, the fourth girl they had found dead. How he had found them, why he picked them – everything they already knew.

"What about her?" Derek pressed, laying pictures of Isabeau, beaten and bloody on the table. "Same MO, Cooper, only she wasn't cheating on anyone."

Cooper frowned. "I don't know anything about her, I swear."

"You're lying," Derek told him. "The DNA we took from the four dead girls matches the DNA on this girl's rape kit. Tell me why you took her, man. Let's do this the easy way."

"Give me a deal, and I'll tell you everything."

Derek glared at the man sitting across from him. "You've killed at least four women and had every intention of killing two others – you want a deal? You're out of your damn mind."

Cooper's countenance went from sniveling and scared to cold and superior; he understood now that he had the upper-hand. He had something these agents wanted – without him, there were no answers. That girl would live in fear for the rest of her life that the man who took her was still at large. She would never know the betrayal that had brought Cooper into her life.

"Tell me what you know," Derek demanded, teeth clenched. "Did you hurt this girl or not?"

Licking his lips, Cooper gave a devilish smile and spoke the last four words Derek wanted to hear. "I want my lawyer."

.&.

The day they tracked down Cooper Hoffman was three days after Isabeau had gotten out of the hospital. She didn't get out of the bed except to go to the bathroom and wash herself up. Depression was setting in, and Spencer didn't have to ask why. If the trauma of what she had gone through wasn't enough, to know the people she called family didn't care that she had seemingly disappeared put the nail in the coffin.

He tried his best to get her to eat, but she refused anything more than chicken broth. Isabeau claimed to not have much of an appetite, and Spencer had to bite his tongue so as not to start spouting off facts about how her lack of appetite was tied to her trauma. More than likely, her own area of expertise was coming back on her: Isabeau was suffering from PTSD.

When Reid got the news that Cooper Hoffman was in custody, he was torn once again. Hotch asked him to bring Isabeau down to identify him as her attacker, but Spencer wasn't so sure she was stable enough for that. There was nothing he could do anymore but try to help her move on with life.

"Isabeau," he said quietly, sitting next to her on the bed. He could smell the shampoo in her still-wet hair and the scent of the lotion that wafted off her skin. Her eyes, blank and empty, moved to his.

"They found him."

He knew she wasn't a mind-reader; she was an observer. She had observed all of his mannerisms and quirks over the last few days and she knew what the look on his face and his hesitant tone meant.

"Yes, we did," Spencer confirmed. "He confessed to the four murders and can't escape the attempt charges on the girl we found him with. When it comes to you though, he's refusing to say anything. He asked for a lawyer as soon as Morgan asked him for information about you."

Derek Morgan. She knew who he was only because Reid had told her about the various members of the BAU team. She imagined Derek to be kind but firm. Tall, athletic. Nothing like the man sitting at her side right now. Except for maybe the kindness part …

"Isabeau?"

She shook her head. Her mind had been doing a lot of wandering lately, and this was just another episode of that. "Sorry. I can't seem to focus very well."

"It's all right," Spencer assured, squeezing her hand. "Do you think you're up for identifying him?"

"Maybe," she whispered as her eyes traveled back over to the television. "You filed a missing persons report on me, didn't you?"

Spencer sighed. He knew that all the hours of watching TV would lead to this. "We did send one out to the media. We were hoping it would lead to more information about your case – maybe even draw the guy out."

"So now that you found him, you'll let it out that I've been found."

"Yes, we can do that, but we have to know it was Cooper who kidnapped you."

"You said the DNA matched."

"It isn't enough," Spencer told her. "I wish it was. I wish you didn't have to go through this, but I know you're strong enough to finish it out. The decision is yours though."

Isabeau didn't feel strong. "How do you know? How do you know I'm strong enough?"

Spencer took a deep breath and helped her sit up. He pushed her hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger just a little bit too long on her cheek. "Do you know how many cases I've analyzed and profiled? Of all those cases, Isabeau, there aren't many victims who escape. Either they die or we find them before they can be killed. You escaped. When you showed up at my door, there's no way in your condition you should have been able to get out of that other apartment and make it to my door, but you did. That's how I know you're going to see the end of this."

She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. "All right. I'll do it."

Spencer mouth twitched with the hint of a smile and he ventured to kiss her forehead. "This is for the best. I promise."

He got up from the bed to call the office. Once he was out of the room with the door shut behind him, Isabeau scooted out of the bed, carefully hopping around on her good leg and reached for clean clothes. She braided her hair so that it wouldn't be too wild then took one last look in the mirror.

She looked sick. Her eyes had dark rings around them, and her skin was pale and cold. She hadn't given much thought to the weight loss she would suffer through those weeks of not having much to eat but she could see now, through the bruises and injuries, just how boney she really looked.

"The team is on their way back to the office," Spencer announced quietly from the bedroom door. "They'll be ready for us whenever we get there. No rush."

She turned to him. "How many people are going to see me?"

Spencer may not have been a genius when it came to women, but this time he was grateful to quickly catch on to her hidden question. "Isabeau, you don't need to worry about that. You've been through hell and back – you escaped and survived. You've just got to keep reminding yourself of that."

"I know I'm a mess," she told him quietly. "Thing is, I don't want anyone's pity. I don't want them to look at me and think, 'That poor girl.' It'll only make things worse."

Spencer took a deep breath and pushed the wheelchair over to her. He helped her carefully sit down in it and get comfortable. Then, he kneeled down in front of her.

"I won't let anyone look at you like that," he promised. "And we won't stay long. You'll identify Cooper and we'll come right back here. I'll be with you the whole time."

"You've done this before."

"Done what?" Spencer frowned. He'd of course seen plenty of suspects be identified, but he had a feeling that wasn't what Isabeau meant.

"Dealt with a head-case. You spoke to my specific fears and you gave me assurance about them. You offered extra security in the form of your presence – you're someone I'm relatively comfortable with because you've been there since I showed up at your door. Your tone though – that's more than any degree talking."

"This is the problem with having a woman as smart as you with the psychological knowledge and career experience that you have as my charge," Spencer smirked. "You analyze everything I say."

"Have I been wrong yet?" Isabeau questioned.

Spencer stood and shook his head. "Not yet."

.&.

Five men of similar characteristics all filed into a lineup in front of her. Isabeau watched carefully from her wheelchair; Spencer watched _her _carefully, anticipating any shock-related reactions. All he saw, though, was her eyes moving rapidly back and forth, surveying each of the men.

"Number four is Cooper Hoffman," Isabeau said after a minute or so.

The team breathed a sigh of relief. Now they could begin pressing Cooper to get to the bottom of the story and everything that he had to tell about Isabeau's case.

"Thank you for coming in, Isabeau. I know it wasn't easy –" Hotch began.

"Hotch, could I talk to you for a moment before we leave?" Spencer asked, trying to head off the impending piteous comment.

"He's not the guy who kidnapped me," Isabeau spoke up. She turned the chair so that she was facing the group. "He looks a lot like the guy who kidnapped me. _A lot._ But it isn't the guy."

The team all exchanged glances. Derek stepped forward. "Would it be all right if I stayed with you while Reid and Hotch talk?"

Isabeau nodded. Emily and JJ followed Spencer and Hotch out of the room. Derek asked Isabeau if there was anything she needed.

"Fresh coffee, if you're interested."

"No, thanks." Isabeau looked down at her hands. "You think I'm crazy, don't you? Everything matches with Cooper – I get that. But it wasn't Cooper."

"Well," Derek began, "I hear from Spencer that you're a very intelligent woman. If you say it wasn't Cooper, then it wasn't Cooper."

"Did Spencer also tell you that I'm a psychologist? Quite analytical, too. You think you're humoring me right now, but you're actually being condescending without realizing it. You don't have to apologize – like I said, you did it without realizing, and a lot of people do. They think that when someone is losing it, they can just tell them what they want to hear and everything will be fine."

Derek smirked. "I'm sure it works on people who aren't disgustingly smart."

Isabeau smiled for the first time since being kidnapped. "I'm more observant than anything. Some people miss the details; not me. They jump out at me like snakes in the grass."

"No wonder you and Reid get along so well."

Isabeau shook her head. "Spencer Reid and I get along because I have a hero-complex about him. When that guy took me into the apartment complex, Spencer was trying to unlock the door of his apartment. My kidnapper told me that Spencer was a fed and to keep my mouth shut. In the interest of not being shot, I did what he told me to. Then, as soon as I was able, I crawled out of that apartment and made way for Spencer's door. He called nine-one-one and – well, I'm sure you know the rest. In processing everything that's happened to me, my mind sees Spencer as some sort of savior."

"Then you're not seeing the right details," Derek replied.

"What do you mean?" Isabeau frowned.

The rest of the team came back into the room then, so Derek didn't have a chance to reply. Spencer asked Isabeau if she was ready to go back to the safe house, and she agreed. Once in the car, Spencer waited before starting the ignition.

"Hotch wants to go ahead and announce that you've been found. He thinks it might bring out some more details – from Cooper, from your kidnapper. From anybody."

"I guess it's worth a shot."

Spencer raised his brow. "You're sure?"

Isabeau shrugged. Her mind was still on Derek Morgan's comment that she wasn't seeing the right details about Spencer. How could she be wrong? It certainly wouldn't have been the first time, but it wasn't something she was accustomed to experiencing.

"We'll get you back to the house and you can take a nap. Maybe after some rest you'll be more sure."

"Maybe."

Isabeau watched out the window as they drove, sincerely hoping that after a good rest, she would be able to decipher Derek's meaning.

A/N: I apologize it took me so long to get to the next chapter ... school and work pretty much took over my life! I'm going to catch up over break, but I have both FF and OF to work on, so just hang in there with me! Much appreciation to anyone still reading this!


	5. Chapter 5

It was a week later by the time the team felt as a whole that it was the right time to announce that Isabeau had been found. It would have happened sooner, had Spencer not been the one holding out.

"I just don't think she's ready," he insisted when Derek pressed Spencer for his reasoning. "She's still having nightmares and she barely gets out of that bed."

"No one's expecting her to get out into the real world yet," Derek assured him. "In fact, we want the both of you to stay in the house, for now. We're never going to move forward in this case, Reid, if we don't do something to help it along."

Finally, Spencer caved. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of Isabeau being targeted by the media as a new, hot story, but Derek was right. If they were going to get to the bottom of this and make sure that this didn't happen to her or anyone else, something had to give.

A few days later – three weeks after she had shown up at Spencer's door – it was all set. A myriad of reporters assembled and quieted as JJ stepped behind the podium.

"The Behavioral Analysis Unit would like to disclose that we have located and taken into protective custody Isabeau Marcure. She had suffered a number of injuries at the hand of a man we believe to be committing these crimes against a series of women under the MO of another criminal. He targets women who are alone at night outside of bars. He waits in a cab and that's how he captures his victims. We are cautioning all women to remain in pairs if not groups, and to report any suspicious activity as soon as it happens. That's all we have right now."

"Is there anything you can tell us about the woman you have in custody?"

JJ looked sideways to Hotch, who gave a curt nod. "I can tell you that she was targeted in the exact manner in which we described. She is suffering from broken bones, dehydration and malnutrition, as well as emotional and physical effects of sexual assault."

"How old is she? Will she be speaking to the press? How did you find her?"

The questions came one after the other. JJ thanked the press for their assistance in getting the word out about this attacker and stepped off the stage. She hated to leave them with any questions at all – those always got turned around on the victim or their family, if not both. But, they had to be brief.

"You did good," Hotch assured her as they got in the car.

"I wish we could have told them more," JJ sighed. "They'll look for her, they'll go after her parents. Her friends."

"If we can work fast, we'll have more information for them before that happens." He looked down at his phone before answering the call. "Hotchner. Who is it? Okay, we're on our way."

"What is it?" JJ frowned.

"One of Isabeau's friends showed up at the BAU office. Apparently she caught wind of the press conference and wants to know where Isabeau is, what's going on with her."

"She wasn't concerned enough to make a missing persons report but now she wants to see Isabeau? Some friend."

"I'll call Reid, have him call the office. We'll go from there."

.&.

Reid thanked Derek for the information on the girl claiming to be Isabeau's friend and requested that Garcia look into that girl's background before ending the call. Isabeau was having a good day, and it concerned him that this might throw her off.

"You know, I really don't like it when you have that look on your face," Isabeau told him when he entered the room. She was on his laptop, typing away some notes.

"What are you working on?"

"Just some notes from my own experience. Figured it would help both of us, and my research after this is all over. Thanks for letting me use the secure machine here." She was almost cheerful, so Spencer sat next to her on the bed and chose his next words carefully.

"Do you know somebody named Tess Richardson?"

Isabeau looked up from the computer, moving her glasses to the top of her head. "I know Tess. She was one of the first friends I made here, when Ben I were still together. I was weary of her at first because she was Ben's ex-girlfriend, but they made it easy to trust them. She respected my relationship with Ben and kept her distance. So we became friends."

"She showed up at the BAU today, after hearing about the press conference. She wants to see you."

Isabeau looked away with a frown. "She didn't care when I was gone."

"I know that," Spencer said, scooting slightly closer to her. "Which is why you don't have to see her. We want you to decide this, Isabeau."

Isabeau nodded, and her countenance turned from unsure to pensive. "You know, I think I want to see her. I want to know why."

"Fair enough. We can go now, if you want."

"Sure. Let me just make myself slightly more presentable."

He watched her scoot off the bed and pick up the crutches the doctors had said she could slowly begin using. She went in front of the mirror and picked up the makeup bag that had remained untouched since she brought it from her apartment in Fairfax.

Spencer slid off the bed with a sigh. He went to where she was and stood behind her, placing a hand over hers. Isabeau let her hands fall away looked at him through the mirror.

"I'm all right, Spencer."

He shook his head. "I don't think you are. Not yet. Do I believe you're getting better? Yes, absolutely. You're sleeping better and having better days. You know as well as I do that you might not like any of the answers you get from Tess."

"I have to see her," Isabeau replied confidently, turning as best she could to face him. "I have to know why I didn't matter enough to the person who I thought was one of my best friends for me to go missing for nearly a month without her saying anything to anyone."

"That's what this is about," Spencer surmised. "You want to matter to Tess?"

Isabeau fought tears as she looked right into his eyes. "I just want to matter to anyone, Spencer. I know my parents care, but even they're distanced enough from me that they don't think enough of it when I go a month without calling. I thought I had created a new family here in Virginia, but apparently that was wrong, too."

Spencer didn't know what was happening; his emotions were entirely taking over his actions. He reached up to push her hair behind her ear, before wiping the traitorous tears away from her cheeks.

"You matter to me, Isabeau," he whispered just before brushing his lips across hers. He didn't even falter when her crutches clattered to the ground and her arms snaked around him. His hands found their way to the small of her back as the kiss continued.

The ringing of his phone was an unwelcomed interruption. Isabeau wiped her mouth and looked back to the mirror and back to the task she had originally set out to complete.

"This is Reid," Spencer stumbled out. "No, I'm fine. Yes, she'll see her. We'll be on our way in a few minutes."

Isabeau waited for the call to disconnect. "So she's waiting at the office?"

"Yes," Spencer replied. "We can't risk her coming here."

"I get it. I'm just going to finish getting ready."

Spencer excused himself from the room, kicking himself while he turned off the lights throughout the house. He wondered first what he had been thinking, and then realized that's what it came down to: he hadn't been thinking. His brain had lost control of his actions when he kissed her, and Spencer knew he couldn't let it happen again.

"I'm ready."

"Are you sure your arm is okay to use the crutches?" Spencer asked.

Isabeau shrugged. "It's a little sore but I took half of a painkiller. I won't be drowsy but it should head off any pain later on."

Spencer followed her out to the car and helped her into the passenger seat. Even holding her steady while she lowered herself into the car seemed inappropriate now. Wondering how in the world he was going to keep the guilty look off of his face in an office full of profilers, he started the ignition and navigated them towards the BAU.

.&.

Isabeau hesitated just outside the office doors. "You're going to stay with me, right?"

"I'll be right beside you," Spencer assured. He couldn't stop thinking about how it felt to hold her and the taste of her kiss. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he opened the door and allowed her to go through first.

"Oh my gosh, Isa!"

A pretty strawberry-blonde of medium height and an athletic build rushed forward and accosted Isabeau into a fierce hug. Isabeau half-heartedly returned the gesture.

"Hey, Tess."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through this," Tess said, wiping tears from her eyes. She looked over to Emily. "Is there somewhere we can sit and talk in private?"

"Of course," Emily nodded, motioning to one of the nearby conference rooms.

Tess walked forward, frowning when she saw both Isabeau and Spencer following behind her.

"In _private_?" Tess repeated.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Isabeau answered. "Tess Richardson, this is Spencer Reid. He's sort of keeping an eye on me after all of this."

"I've got to talk to the team for a few minutes," Spencer interjected. "You go ahead with Tess; I'll be right out here, and not far behind you."

Isabeau nodded and followed behind Tess with a visible amount of uncertainty. Hotch carefully watched the interaction – he'd been watching since they came into the office – and waited for Isabeau to be in the conference room and out of ear shot before approaching Spencer.

"Reid, is there something going on that I should be aware of?"

Spencer immediately shook his head. "Why would you ask that?"

"Maybe because you're watching her like the earth is going to open up and swallow her if you're not right there next to her," Derek piped up.

"I just don't want her getting overwhelmed."

Derek and Hotchner exchanged a glance. Derek nodded, letting Hotch know he would handle this one. Derek motioned for Spencer to follow him and they began a slow walk to the conference room.

"Is this about Lila?"

"What? No," Spencer groaned. "This isn't about anything except for a girl who showed up at my door one night afraid for her life. Maybe I've developed a little bit of a hero complex or something."

"That's not like you, Reid," Derek said, stopping just outside the room, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Come on. Tell me what's going on."

Spencer leaned against the window-wall and sighed. "She's beautiful. She's a mess – broken in so many ways, but refuses to let anyone put her back together. It's like she's indirectly insisting on doing it herself. She still needs me, though. I don't know, maybe it has something to do with my mother – she really needed me. Couldn't do things for herself. Isabeau, she's independent. She's strong – a survivor. But still, she needs me. There's something in all of that."

"Would it be easier for you if we reassigned her watch?"

Spencer shook his head and stood up straight again. "No. I'd just worry about her too much and end up right back at that safe house."

Derek nodded. "If it's just a hero complex, man, it's going to fade as time goes on. If it's isn't, well, it won't."

Derek clapped him on the back and went back to whatever he'd been doing before Tess arrived, putting the whole office on alert. Spencer looked through the window-wall into the conference room and noticed that Isabeau's face said she was paying attention to Tess, but her eyes were subtly looking for him. He motioned that he would be waiting outside before turning his back to the women.

.&.

"He seems pretty attached to you, too," Tess teased her friend.

Isabeau gave a hesitant smile. "He was the first face I saw outside of that apartment. I guess we've got a mutual concern for each other's presence because of that."

"It's cute." Tess looked down at her hands clasped on the table. "Isa, I'm really sorry that this happened to you. I feel like I should have been there – should have made you call when you got to Ben's or left Ben's or something."

"How did you know I was going to Ben's?" Isabeau frowned. "I told you I was going home."

"When I didn't hear from you for like a week, I started calling around to see if anyone had gotten in touch with you. Ben said you went over there that night, you two got in a big fight, and you told him that you didn't want to see any of us anymore, that you were going back home."

"Ben told you that?"

"He did," Tess confirmed. "Is that not right?"

"No, it isn't," Isabeau answered. "I was supposed to be going to Ben's, but I never made it. The guy was waiting when I got in the cab that night."

Tess wiped a tear from her cheek. "Isabeau, I'm sorry."

"Is that why you never called the police or tried to file a missing persons report?"

"I mean, Ben said you were fine. That you didn't want to be around any of us. He's the only one who has contact information for your parents."

"You could have gotten it from him," Isabeau said, her anger rising. "Tess, you're my best friend out here. Besides Ben, I've known you the longest. Of anyone, I thought it would have been you that cared. I was out of touch for _a month _and you didn't blink an eye when Ben told you that. You didn't care to hear it from me? I think you cared enough to ask Ben if he had heard from me, but not enough to keep pushing and trying to find out anything. Hell, you could have showed up at my apartment."

"I know that but I'm here now," Tess pleaded. "I was wrong. Please, you've got to understand. You can't blame me for what happened."

Isabeau rolled her eyes. "I don't blame you. I just wish you would have cared a little more than you did. Than you _do_."

Pushing herself up on her crutches, she left the room. She was ready to be back in that bed and sleep away the rest of the day.

"Can we leave, please?" she pleaded with Spencer.

"Of course. I'm sorry that didn't go well," Spencer told her honestly.

Isabeau took a deep breath. "You should probably talk to Ben. He told Tess that he and I were in a fight. Told her that I said I didn't want to see any of them anymore and that I was going back home. Ben is the only one with my parents' contact information. Once I talk to them, I'll know what he told my mother and father."

Spencer didn't like any of that, at all. It was very sketchy on Ben's part; he alerted Emily and Hotch to the new information, then escorted Isabeau out of the building.

"Emily said my parents are coming here," Isabeau mentioned on the way back to the house.

Spencer nodded. "I think so. They're worried about your well-being."

"I'm sure," she scoffed. "Wonder what line Ben fed them."

"We're going to find out," Spencer promised.

Isabeau continued to watch out the window. "Will my parents be able to stay with us?"

"I'm sorry, but I think it's just going to be you and me and a police watch until we can get to the bottom of this." He glanced at her and swallowed hard. "If that's going to be awkward because of what happened earlier, I can get someone else assigned to it."

"Don't," she stopped him. "I won't lie that I wanted that to happen – that I've _been_ wanting it to happen. The thing is, Spencer, I'm a psychologist. I know all the signs. You were the safe haven I imagined for those weeks that I was in that apartment. The moment you opened your door and helped me, my brain instantly registered you as some kind of savior because I knew I was safe once I was with you. I feel safer with you now than with anybody else, I don't like being away from you, I scream for you when I have those nightmares. I couldn't even talk to Tess on my own without knowing you were nearby. Don't tell me you haven't seen it before."

Spencer pursed his lips. "So you think this is transference."

"Just think it's important we recognize that from the beginning."

He didn't say anything else, and except for glancing at him to gauge his facial reaction, Isabeau did not look at him or say anything until they were back at the safe house.


	6. Chapter 6

Benjamin Kinnevan was clearly not keen on being held by the FBI, but until he answered some questions, Emily Prentiss wasn't about to let him go anywhere.

"When was the last time you saw Isabeau Marcure?" Emily asked.

Ben shrugged. "Almost two months ago, now. Around June thirteenth, I think it was."

"Where did you see her?"

"My place. She had been hanging out with some mutual friends at a bar. Isabeau and I see each other privately every now and then. She came over that night, got mad at something I said, and left. That was the last time I saw her."

Emily didn't miss a beat. "Tell me about that argument. What did you say that made her so angry?"

"I told her we needed to think about stopping our little 'meetings'. Told her that if she wanted to give it another try, I was willing to do that, but I wasn't going to keep this on-the-side business going. She seemed possibly willing to give that a try. After I told her that I wanted her to move back to Quantico if we were going to give it a fair shot this time, that's when she went off. Told me I was selfish, then went on about how she didn't want to see me or anyone else in our circle of friends. Said she would just go back home."

"What if I told you I knew you were lying?" Emily countered. "What if I told you that Isabeau specifically remembers that she didn't make it to your place that night? She was picked up in the cab right outside the bar and her kidnapper was waiting in that cab."

Ben shook his head adamantly. "No. Absolutely not. I saw her that night!"

"Don't lie to me, Ben. It won't end well for you," Emily warned.

"Think about it," Ben replied through clenched teeth. "She's been gone for almost two months, right?"

As far as the public knew that was correct, so Emily nodded.

"They said she was beaten and raped and all that – couldn't that affect her memory?" Ben sighed. "Look, ma'am, I'm just as anxious as the next person for them to find whoever did this to her. There's no reason for me to lie."

"I'm going to have to ask you to prove that. You up for a polygraph?"

"Absolutely."

Emily nodded. "Sit tight, Ben."

She made sure to lock the door behind her and shrugged when she saw Spencer and Hotch on the other side of the two-way mirror. "Can't say in all honesty that I don't believe him."

"I worried about that," Hotch confessed. "She went through a lot of trauma. For whatever reason, her brain is choosing not remember the part about seeing Ben."

Emily glanced at Spencer; just from the look on his face, she could plainly see his thoughts were in line with theirs. "Do you want to talk to her about it?"

"I might as well. She isn't going to be happy hearing it from anyone, but maybe she'll believe it coming from me."

It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since he had kissed her, so Spencer's mind was still reeling from that event. After her claim that it was simply transference that caused her to allow the kiss to happen, he had tried to keep his distance. Isabeau seemed to deal with it by simply acting as though it had never happened.

"I can't believe you can do all of that from here. I'm amazed," Isabeau was telling Penelope when Spencer checked in on her.

Of everyone except for Spencer, Isabeau seemed to be most comfortable being around Penelope Garcia, so when they were in the office, Isabeau usually chose to sit with Penelope. The director had made a very detailed confidentiality statement, under the circumstances, and after Isabeau signed that, Penelope was grateful for the company.

"If it's out there, Penelope Garcia will find it," Spencer commented. Both women turned to look at him.

"Our resident genius," Penelope smiled. "I'm guessing you've come to steal away my company?"

"Sadly, I have. Just for a few minutes, though."

Isabeau actually smiled at him. She reached for her crutches and followed him out into the hallway.

"I wish you were less stubborn about using those crutches. You could hurt your arm."

"And once I can walk, I'll be less concerned about having just one bum limb," Isabeau replied. She stopped a few doors down from Garcia's office. "Out with it, Spencer."

Spencer took a deep breath and spoke quietly. "Emily just finished questioning Ben. We're going to put him through a lie detector test, but he is very adamant that you saw him the night you disappeared."

Isabeau shook her head. "No, absolutely not."

"We're going to see what the lie detector says," Spencer started slowly. "But it is possible that the trauma you went through, and the injuries you sustained caused some sort of memory loss. Sometimes to cope with a trauma, our brains will re-construct –"

"You don't have to tell me that," Isabeau snapped. "I know exactly what our brains will do."

Penelope stood up from her chair. "You know what, I'm just going to go see if there's … anything else I could possibly be doing right now."

Spencer waited for her to scuffle out of the room. "Isabeau, listen to me. I'm not saying that what you remember happening didn't happen. I believe that your brain remembers being picked up in the cab and that your kidnapper was there …"

"Just stop right there," Isabeau spoke up over him. "You can break it down any way you want, but it isn't going to change the way I see things now."

"And how is that?" Spencer asked, frustrated with her for the first time ever.

His tone caught her off-guard. She lowered her volume. "You're the only person I have really trusted since I got out of that apartment. You're the only one I believed didn't think I was a basketcase. You treated me like I was stronger than I believe I really am. I don't know what it is about what Ben said that made you doubt me. What I do know is that the one person I had any faith left in just took the other guy's side, and it feels like a betrayal. Excuse me, _Dr. Reid._"

Spencer stepped out of her way, allowing her to pass through the door and out into the main room of the office. He chastised himself for not approaching the subject with more sensitivity. What _was _it about Ben that made him think that maybe Isabeau's mind had re-structured her memory?

The fact that everything in his book learning and knowledge told him that Ben's proposition of the truth was realistic. It could be proved and held logical, while Isabeau's still mending mind and memory had only stories with holes and memories that didn't make sense. Did that make her wrong, though?

"Not necessarily," Spencer mumbled to himself. He knew he would have to apologize to her.

And there his mind went again, back to that kiss. He could see himself offering and apology, pushing the ever-present stray strand of hair from her face, and kissing her again. Isabeau's lips had been so soft, and her taste …

Spencer shook the thoughts from his head and went back to the conference room to help Emily compose a list of questions for the polygraph administrator to ask Ben.

.&.

Isabeau couldn't hide that she was overwhelmed. Despite the brief but significant argument she'd had with Spencer earlier in the day, her parents had arrived in Virginia – a surprise, they told her. Some sort of travel connection had given them the opportunity to get on a plane almost immediately after hearing about their daughter's situation. They showed up at the BAU and accosted her into hugs and tears and questions right when they saw her. Although she was still upset with Spencer at taking Ben's side over her memory, she would be eternally grateful to him for stepping in and letting her parents know that maybe she wasn't ready for so much activity.

Now they were out to supper, the four of them, in a quiet diner. Her mother, Isabeau could tell, was trying not to bombard her with questions. Her father could barely look at her.

"Where are you guys staying?" Isabeau asked.

Mrs. Marcure frowned. "I suppose we just assumed we would stay with you, dear."

She glanced briefly at Spencer. "Actually, that's not possible. I'm in a safe house with Spencer right now until they can find the person who kidnapped me."

"Oh, of course," Mr. Marcure nodded. "We don't want to interfere with that."

"Dr. Reid," Mrs. Marcure asked in a tone that warned Isabeau her mother was about to speak about Isabeau as though she wasn't sitting right there. "When will we be able to take Isabeau home?"

Isabeau frowned. "Home? Mom, don't you think –"

"Now, Isa, your mother is trying to figure out what's best for you. Don't get upset," Mr. Marcure interjected.

She rolled her eyes but listened in as Spencer stuttered and stumbled through a reply. He didn't really answer the question, but told them in no uncertain terms that Isabeau wasn't ready to travel yet.

"Well, that's no problem. We'll stay for a while, and when you're ready, we'll bring you home." Her mother gave her an attempt at a comforting smile, and Isabeau tried to smile back.

By the time she and Spencer were back at the safe house, she was ready to sleep. Her mind was full – full of Tess and Ben and her parents and Spencer. Each of her thoughts played over and over at the same time. It was more than she knew how to process just at that moment.

But even as she lay in the dark bedroom, there was one thing about the day she couldn't get out of her head: the way she had snapped at Spencer. Since they had met, he had been nothing if not accommodating and supportive. He hadn't been malicious or hurtful when he had proposed the information to her; she had reacted irrationally and emotionally. Not without reason, of course, but that didn't mean Spencer deserved it.

Throwing back the covers, Isabeau leaned over to pick up her crutches and headed out for where she knew Spencer would be. Just as she expected, she found him on the couch. Unexpectedly though, the his fingers were still, not tapping away at the keys.

"Aren't you usually elbow deep in notes and profiling about this time?" she asked from the doorway.

Spencer looked up. "Oh, yeah, usually, I guess. I was just reading through some of your notes, actually. Hope that's okay."

She shrugged and took a seat in the recliner opposite him. "That's what I put them there for. If someone as detail-oriented as you can't figure it out, maybe I'm just screwed."

"Don't say that," Spencer told her softly, his eyes full of compassion. "You're just as detailed as I am, really. Your brain is just a little fuzzy."

Isabeau nodded. "About that – I'm sorry about earlier. I overreacted and I shouldn't have snapped at you. I shouldn't have said the things that I did. It wasn't fair."

Spencer set the laptop to the side. "It's all right. You've been under a lot of stress, and I probably could have presented the information differently."

"It is what it is," Isabeau summed up. "And, also, thanks for being so great with my parents. I really wasn't ready for them to be here, I think."

"I noticed that," Spencer smiled. "If it's any consolation, I can see why you would have left home. Don't get me wrong, they're nice, but I think they forget how old you are."

"Yeah, they've always been that way. Spencer?"

Thank goodness she was using his first name again. "Yes?"

"Do you really think I met with Ben that night? I know I went through a lot, but shouldn't I remember something like that?"

Against his better judgment, Spencer moved to sit on the arm of the recliner. "I won't repeat my reasoning from earlier – we both know how that turned out. I do think it's possible, but that doesn't mean it's certain. Isa, you're a strong woman. You lived through something that several other women couldn't survive. You know what happened and how it happened; you just have to get past yourself to the answers."

She nodded, pursing her lips. Then, a small smile. "You called me Isa. My dad used to call me that, before I left home."

"It suits you."

"I know you have work to do, but would you mind if stayed out here and watched a movie or something? I don't really want to be alone."

"Of course. Lean back, I'll get you a blanket and a pillow."

Spencer handed her the remote so she could find something to watch on the television, then returned with the comforter from the bed, as well as one of the pillows. He helped her position the pillow behind her head, then spread out the comforter over her. He tucked her in as best he could, then stood. Isabeau reached for his hand.

"Do you think – is it possible that if my brain is messed up more than I think it is, maybe that kiss wasn't transference. Maybe there's something really here."

"That could be," Spencer replied in a measured tone. He squeezed her hand. "I won't tell you that I haven't thought my side of it is more than a hero complex. Thing is, even if it's not some sort of complex, you're a month out from a serious trauma. Don't look at me like that – I'm trying to think of your well-being. You need to be stable before we even think about exploring what this really means. I have to consider the ethics of it."

Isabeau nodded; he was right. "Fair enough."

"That doesn't mean that I don't want it to be real," he felt the need to add.

"Okay," Isabeau smiled. "Good night, Spencer."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Good night, Isa."


End file.
